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Monday August 5, 2013 7:00 AM

I don’t consider myself a tree hugger, but I’ve long been a tree lover.

As such, I’m feeling bereft.

The 10 ash trees that for decades have graced my Eastmoor neighborhood yard are
disappearing.

I’ll never see them again.

The trees, all dead or dying, are being removed by a tree service.

Of course, I’ve read with great interest and sadness the many
Dispatch stories about the emerald ash borer’s devastation in Ohio and beyond.

The invasive insect, which has been spreading throughout the Buckeye State for about 10 years,
has claimed tens of millions of ash trees in the United States and Canada.

This time, though, the attack is personal.

Awaiting the removal was akin to anticipating a life-threatening operation: I dreaded it.

In 1998, when I bought my home on a secluded cul-de-sac, I was attracted to it in part by the
large yard (ideal for my energetic German shepherd) and the 21 trees that provided a refuge for
squirrels from Sunny (and, later, Shade).

Through the years, several trees — one or two at a time — have required removal. The thought of
10 going at once, though, was a major blow — to my heart as well as my wallet.

The loss makes me appreciate my seven remaining trees all the more.

But how will I (and those dog-fearing squirrels) cope with only four oaks, two maples and a
beech?

Maybe this sorrowful experience has a small silver lining.

With more room in the yard, I might finally plant

the fruit trees I’ve always wanted.

Dispatch Theater Critic Michael Grossberg took a liking to the recent film The Tree of
Life.